The first golden rays of dawn spilled over the horizon, painting the wilderness in hues of amber and rose. The camp stirred to life—spirit beasts stretching, cultivators packing, and the crisp morning air carrying the scent of dew-damp grass.

  Snow, the ice-claw wolf, let out a disgruntled huff as Igni, the flame-striped tiger, hauled him onto Ning’s broad back. The quake buffalo snorted, unimpressed by the wolf’s complaints, but held steady as the feline finally shoved the last stubborn paw into place.

  Snow bared his fangs but wisely held his tongue and didn’t growl or snarl—partly because he knew it wouldn’t do him any good.

  Nearby, Gin lounged against a tree, watching the spectacle with amusement as he uncorked a small, intricately engraved metal flask. With the solemnity of a sage performing a sacred ritual, he tipped it just enough for a single, glistening drop to fall into his gourd. The moment the liquid hit the water inside, the scent of Five-Mountain Dew Wine—potent enough to knock out a lesser cultivator—wafted through the air. The clear water darkened, swirling into a pale, weak imitation of the spirit.

  Kai, rolling up the last of the weatherproof tarps, caught the aroma and shot Gin a dry look before he sighed and turned away—only to freeze as his senses prickled. Someone was watching him.

  Chen Gong stood a few paces off, arms crossed, his sharp eyes locked onto Kai with unnerving focus. There was something in that gaze—calculating, considering, like a strategist weighing his next move.

  Kai’s stomach twisted. He’d seen that look before.

  Oh no.

  It was the same look Lu Bu had given him days ago, right before the boy—with the enthusiastic backing of the beastkin—had strong-armed him into becoming his cultivation teacher. The memory alone made Kai’s shoulders tense.

  Kai deliberately turned his back to Cheng Gong, his fingers making unnecessary adjustments to the leather tarps. He smoothed already-flattened folds and retied perfectly secure knots, willing the moment to pass through sheer pretense of busyness. The silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken intentions, until at last Kai heard the soft crunch of Gong's footsteps moving away. He released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

  The journey northward continued without incident, the landscape gradually transforming as they traveled. Lush southern forests gave way to sparse pine stands, the air growing crisper with each passing mile. Six hours later, when the first glimpse of Biragawa's walls appeared on the horizon, Kai found himself... underwhelmed.

  The city's fortifications were sturdy enough - high stone walls topped with wooden watchtowers - but as they drew closer, Kai realized the settlement's modest scale. What had appeared impressive from a distance revealed itself to be barely larger than a southern market town. He estimated the entire perimeter could be walked in less than an hour.

  The walls, while well-maintained, enclosed an area that would constitute merely a district in any proper southern metropolis. Even cities on the border like Wuyuan boasted grander architecture and busier thoroughfares.

  Yet this matched exactly what Kai expected - the further north one journeyed, the more civilization dwindled. Here, where winters bit deep and the soil yielded grudging harvests, people clustered together just enough for mutual survival rather than grand urban ambitions.

  As the worn stone walls of Biragawa loomed closer, Kai raised a fist, signaling the group to halt where the forest's edge began to thin. The afternoon sun cast long shadows across their path, dappling the ground with patches of gold between the pine boughs.

  "Wait here," Kai instructed, turning to the beastkin. He kept his voice low, though no guards patrolled this far from the gates. "Better if they don't see you at all."

  Ning's ears flattened slightly, but she nodded. Igni simply grunted, his tail flicking in quiet understanding - they'd played this game before in other human settlements.

  Kai adjusted his cloak he got from the Windrider clan, ensuring it covered his face. Only when he felt a familiar weight settle on his shoulder did he glance sideways. Yinying had already melted into invisibility, though Kai could still feel the shadow fox's presence like a cool mist against his neck.

  "Stay hidden until we're inside and alone," he murmured, earning the faintest pressure of claws through his tunic in response.

  The distance from tree line to city gates stretched before him - fifty paces of open ground that felt suddenly exposed. Kai rolled his shoulders back, adopting the weary but harmless demeanor of a common traveler as he started forward. His boots crunched on the gravel path, each step carrying him further from the safety of the forest's shadows.

  Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

  Behind him, the beastkin would be watching, their forms now completely concealed by the dense pines. Kai resisted the urge to look back, knowing any hesitation might draw unwanted attention from the wall guards. Instead, he focused on the rhythm of his breathing, on the way Yinying's weight shifted minutely with each step to maintain perfect balance.

  The northern guards stood like grizzled sentinels at their posts, their thick furs keeping them warm from the long watch. Unlike the polished ceremonial armor of southern cities, their protection came from layers of wolf pelts and boiled leather, each scar and stain telling stories of harsh winters survived. Their eyes, sharp as flint, missed nothing - these were men who measured strangers by the tension in their hands rather than the cut of their robes.

  As the group approached, Kai subtly fell back, letting Chen Gong take the lead. They had agreed on this during their final rest stop - his Zan accent and bureaucratic bearing would raise fewer questions than a band of armed travelers.

  Gong straightened his shoulders into the precise posture of a minor official. "I am Magistrate Chen Gong of Wuyuan City, seeking refuge from both the elements and ill fortune." His voice carried just the right mix of authority and weariness.

  The senior guard, a broad-shouldered man with a salt-and-pepper beard, squinted at Gong with open skepticism. "A magistrate? Alone?" His gaze swept over Gong's travel-stained robes. "Where's your retinue? Your seals? Your—"

  "Dead," Gong cut in sharply, then moderated his tone. "Our caravan was ambushed by bandits near Zuzu Valley. These good hunters," he gestured gracefully toward Kai's group, "found me and saved my life."

  "Bandits in Zuzu?" The guard's hand instinctively went to his spear. "How many? What arms?"

  Gong's response came smooth as poured ink. "Twenty-odd, mostly armed with hunting bows and farm tools. These experts disabled them and left them bound for proper justice." He emphasized the last word with a magistrate's gravity.

  One of the younger guards snorted. "Should've just slit their throats and been done with—"

  A sharp elbow from his companion silenced him. The senior guard's eyes narrowed as he studied each member of the party in turn. Finally, he grunted. "This requires the captain's ears. Pei will take your... companions to the Snow Hare Inn while you come with me."

  "But I just started my—" the younger guard, Pei, began to protest before another elbow strike cut him short.

  Kai caught the subtle tightening around Gong's eyes - a silent promise that he'd keep their secrets safe. With a barely perceptible nod between them, the group separated, Gong striding off with the senior guard while Pei, muttering under his breath, led the others through the gates.

  As they passed beneath the heavy timber portcullis, Kai felt Yinying's claws dig slightly into his hidden shoulder - a silent warning to stay alert.

  The young guard, Pei, led them through the town's central square—what passed for a marketplace in these northern reaches. The space was wide and well-trodden, the packed earth lined with empty merchant stalls that stood like skeletal remains of busier seasons. At this time of year, only a handful of shops remained open. A blacksmith’s hammer rang out in steady rhythm, while a fur trader lazily rearranged his wares, casting a disinterested glance at the newcomers. The rest of the square lay quiet, save for the occasional gust of wind that sent loose shutters creaking on their hinges.

  This place must thrive in the harvest months, Kai thought, noting the size of the square compared to its meager offerings. Now, it was little more than a hollow echo of commerce, waiting for warmer days to breathe life back into it.

  The Snow Hare Inn stood at the far end of the square, its wooden beams darkened by years of smoke and winter storms. Though modest by southern standards, it was clearly the finest lodging Biragawa had to offer—two full stories with a freshly thatched roof and a sign bearing a white hare mid-leap, its paint faded but still legible.

  Pei shoved the door open without ceremony, revealing a common room that was empty save for the glow of embers in the hearth. The air smelled of stewed meat, hearth smoke, and the faint tang of spilled ale.

  "Mei!" Pei called out, his voice bouncing off the wooden beams. "You in here?"

  A moment later, a young woman burst from the kitchen, a wooden spoon in one hand and a steaming pot clutched in the other. Her sleeves were rolled up to her elbows, and a streak of flour dusted her cheek. She blinked at Pei, then at the strangers behind him, before her expression settled into something between amusement and exasperation.

  "Pei, it’s barely past noon," she said, stirring the pot absently. "If you’re here for a drink, you’ll have to wait until the sun’s at least thinking about setting."

  "Not here for that," Pei grumbled, jerking a thumb toward Kai and the others. "City business. They’re to stay the night—bill it to the guard captain’s ledger."

  Mei’s eyes flicked over the group, lingering briefly on their weapons and travel-worn clothes before she shrugged. "Fine, fine. Rooms are clean, at least." She turned back toward the kitchen, still stirring. "If you’ve got questions about Biragawa, ask me. If you’ve got complaints, take them up with the wind."

  Pei gave a curt nod to Kai. "She’ll sort you out." And with that, he was gone, the door swinging shut behind him with a thud.

  Kai exchanged glances with the others. The inn was quiet, the woman distracted, and the town itself seemed half-asleep. But beneath the surface, he could sense the undercurrent of a place where everyone knew each other’s business—and strangers were a rare enough occurrence to be noteworthy.

  Best tread carefully, he thought, as Yinying’s invisible claws pressed lightly into his shoulder, as if in agreement.